


Indulging

by wincestplaythings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom!Sam, Comeplay, Cursed objects, Fingerfucking, Incest, M/M, Multiple Deans, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Overstimulation kink, Riding, Rimming, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Switching, Top!Sam, Vibrators, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean, deaged, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestplaythings/pseuds/wincestplaythings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds Dean in a bar - except, he's much younger, doesn't recognize him, and has no memory of the past few years. Sam has an idea about how to jog his memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam had sat at the bar for a half hour, trying to think about a way to approach his brother – well, a much younger version of his brother that clearly does not recognize him. Sam bumped into Dean – God, Dean had to have been 19, 21 at the oldest – and the kid clearly had no idea who Sam was.

Eventually, he developed a theory: Dean had been fucking around with the multicultural section at the antiques place where a witness on their last case worked. It had to be a cursed object from the store, or one of the witch friends of the psycho they put down decided they wanted revenge, because Dean didn’t remember anything.

At least, Dean knew the con he was playing and that he was a hunter’s kid on a job – but as far as Sam could tell, Dean was still playing it like he was waiting for Dad to show up and tell him what was going on. The fake ID that Dean flashed to the bartender – whether it was for identity protection or age, he couldn’t have guessed – was as old school as their Dad’s leather jacket.

He had Dean talking for an hour, trying to delicately figure out how to pinpoint what he knew, before Dean was getting suspicious and he had to make a play. Finally, it came down to either convincing Dean to go back to the motel with him or letting Dean walk and risk getting lost or letting the curse get worse. The last thing they needed was Dean walking into a hospital having forgotten his own name, or worse, let whatever is happening intensify until it did irreparable damage.

Now Sam was hoping to death that if the million things he tried mentioning wouldn’t work to jog his memories, then being close to Sam would – and if Dean was looking for a hookup, fucking his brother into the mattress wouldn’t be all that different than any other Tuesday night.

This version of his brother was clearly inexperienced with a guy – but he wasn’t shy to be with a stranger either. He was cracking jokes, giving that classic smirk, stripping on command – but he was also letting Sam lead, and definitely didn’t try to take any initiative to top. Sam had Dean on his back, wrapping his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, running his tongue over the sensitive slit and rolling Dean’s balls with a free hand.

Dean was out of breath and swearing, watching with awe as Sam swallowed him down into the cleft of his throat. He pulled off and moved onto broad licks to the sensitive underside of Dean’s length, regaining his breath before taking Dean’s cock back into his mouth. He bobbed his head, finding a rhythm that left his brother cursing and gripping the sheets.

Sam stroked the shaft as he alternated between suckling the sensitive head and running the tip of his tongue over the bundle of nerves just below, using a free hand to drench his fingers in lube. Dean nearly choked him as his hips thrust forward in shock as Sam start swiping and rubbing Dean’s sensitive hole.

By the time Sam had to stop sucking him or risk Dean losing it altogether, he had two fingers in Dean’s ass. He took the sight of Dean in – eyes blown, jaw slightly ajar, flushed red, white-knuckled, completely fucked out –as he coaxed him into all fours and replaced the fingers rubbing against the walls of his ass.

Dean was rocking his hips, fucking himself on three of Sam’s fingers, when Sam twisted his hand, in and out with crooked fingers. Dean jolted forward, back arched and legs shaking with a gasp.

Sam grinned and huffed a laugh at the sensitivity, not sure whether it was too soon to show too much love to the prostate on the boy who was fighting so hard not to come too soon. Sam stopped the thrusts of his fingers to rub at the spot that had Dean screaming into a pillow and fucking his ass back, before adding more lube and a forth finger.

Dean’s hole clearly hadn’t been through much before, because the coaxing of that forth finger had Sam whispering sweet nothings and stroking Dean’s dick through it. When he was fully stretched to take whatever his brother gave him, Sam wrapped a finger and thumb around the base of Dean’s cock to keep him from coming before giving into Dean’s cries and wanton thrusts and finger-fucking the kid. Finally, Dean was begging and Sam couldn’t take it anymore, barely able to stop himself from fucking him through the wall, mind caught between gentle patience and desperately trying not to mutter stupid bullshit that wouldn’t make sense to a Dean without memories.

He pulled his hands away, Dean whining at the loss and begging to be fucked. Sam stroked Dean through it as he lined up and rolled his hips forward, the other arm holding Dean up, his shaking limbs threatening to give out. Inch by inch, Sam gently rocked in until he bottomed out, lightly thumbing the head of Dean’s dick while they both steadied themselves. When Dean wiggled his hips, adjusting, Sam pulled out to the tip before thrusting back in, slow and deep in a way that had Dean’s toes curling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted, scratching at the sheets as Sam’s thrusts picked up and found a rhythm. Carefully in tune with Dean’s body, Sam coaxed Dean onto his back, quickly but carefully filling his hole again as he put a hand on the backs of Dean’s knees, pushing forwards until he was almost bent in half. Dean screamed as Sam pounded against his prostate, his whole body strung out with pleasure, letting Sam swallow his noises in a kiss. With his dick trapped between them, Dean was gasping each time Sam’s abs ground into it, trying to rub against him as he fucked back on the cock in his ass.

In tune with the strain, Sam wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him up into his lap. Needy and gasping, Dean lifted his hips and slammed back down, using a hand on each shoulder to steady himself. Sam’s dick hit Dean’s prostate with every other thrust, forcing gasps and “Ah, ah, ah,” out of Dean’s lips. As Dean clenched his silky heat around Sam with each moan, Sam realized how close he was, and guided Dean’s hand to the neglected dick between them.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, grabbing Dean’s hips and holding him in place as he pounded up into him. Dean did as he was told, his hand stroking fast as his eyes rolled back, mouth ajar with soundless sobs of pleasure as Sam’s dick battered his prostate.

“I’m-”

“Come.” Sam said simply. Dean’s head dropped against Sam’s shoulder, shouting the fake name he had given him at the bar as he splashed between them. Dean’s ass convulsed around him and Sam came so hard he was barely able to lay Dean on the bed before falling backwards.

Dean was gasping for air, barely awake by the end of it. Sam wet a cloth and cleaned the worst of it before hopping in the shower. He only gave himself a minute to rinse before putting an arm against the wall to regain control of himself, resisting the urge to wrap himself around his brother and tell him everything. He was in and out in a flash, stepping out of the bathroom in a towel as Dean was blinking awake, exactly where Sam had left him.

“Shower’s all yours, man. Water’s still hot. Looks like this place actually has decent heaters.”

Dean peeled himself off the bed, shuffling for his clothes before nodding at Sam and closing himself in the bathroom. Sam frowned, searching for a clean shirt as he tried to figure out how to keep Dean in sight until he figured the whole thing out.

∞

Dean blinked, trying to check his vision, so sure he must have seen it wrong. He had been sitting in the car for nearly fifteen minutes, waiting for the guy to leave so he could confront his brother. Right across the room from the open window, he had seen Sammy pounding into some guy writhing in the circle of his arms. The noises hadn’t been modest, and if he had a clear head he wouldn’t have gone to hide in Baby’s front seat.

It had to be a mistake – a shifter, a hex bag, a lust spell, something. Last night, Sam was curled around him, always cuddling like a girl. Sam woke Dean up that morning by sucking him down, trying to get him to stay in bed for a while before heading out to work on the hunt – some easy, standard salt-and-burn haunt. Lives weren’t at stake – finding the object the spirit was attached to had just been a pain in the ass.

Sam was supposed to hit the bar, chat up the locals, see what he could see while Dean followed up with a hunter the next town over who had passed on the case for lack of thrill. Apparently, that bar had twinks who were waiting to rock on his brother’s dick.

Here’s the thing: Sam doesn’t run around. There’s room for the benefit of the doubt, definitely, but whatever is in there – if it’s not Sam, then he’s not in a good headspace to run in, and if it is… that’s the absolute worst case scenario.

Finally the anger wells and takes over. It doesn’t make sense – but he can’t think straight either. Dean slams his door and crosses the lot, glancing in. Sam’s dressed, pacing, looking like he’s thinking so damn hard his brain is going to explode.

Making a split decision, Dean put the key in the door and launched himself at his brother. Sam only had a moment to look at Dean, very confused, before Dean had holy water in Sam’s face, iron against his pulse, and two fists tangled in his shirt.

Sam did nothing to stop the assault, stunned. “Dean? How- what the fuck?”

Dean was livid. “What the fuck? What the fuck, Sammy! I get back to find you screwing some dude? What the hell?”

“It’s not what you- It’s not like that! I thought- I thought you were you!”

The bathroom door flew open at the sound of the scuffle. The younger Dean stood in the doorway, soaked from the shower with a towel at his waist.

Dean’s eyes went wide, releasing the fists gripped in Sam’s shirt as he stumbled back. He opened his mouth as if to say something, blinked and snapped it shut. Finally, Sam reached for him, and Dean batted the hand away, switching his shocked stare from his younger self to his brother.

“There a problem?” Young Dean asked, already on the defensive, eyes searching for exits.

“No. No problem at all.” The other Dean said quickly, almost stammering, smoothing his hands over his jeans.

Younger Dean set his jaw, as if he was waiting for a fight. “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of anything here. I’m on my way out.”

Sam looked at his older brother – well, his oldest older brother – in shock, surprised that he didn’t plan on filling his younger self in, before nodding towards the doorway. “Hey, man. It’s fine. My, uh, my brother and I have to check out of the room in a few, so… why don’t you finish cleaning up. No rush.”

Dean shot Sam a death glare, as if he was pissed his brother was even talking. Jaw locked as he searched signs of a threat, the younger Dean nodded slowly before retreating, closing the door a little too harshly and clicking the lock.

“Sam,” Dean said slowly, voice charged with a warning, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sam said defensively, holding his hands up. He glanced between Dean’s tight expression and the bathroom door, before correcting himself hesitantly. “Well, I kind of fucked up. But I didn’t- I had nothing to do with the Two Yous thing.”

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t,” Dean demanded, crowding Sam against the bed until he was forced to sit. Sam swallowed thickly, flashing the guiltiest puppy dog eyes Dean had ever seen up at his brother.

“Dean, I-”

“You fucker!” Dean shouted, forcing himself between his little brother’s knees, shoving Sam’s chest until he fell back. Sam propped himself on his elbows, hair splayed across his face, feeling mortified as hell and ten inches tall.

“Quiet down, okay? I get that you’re pissed, but… you’ll hear you.”

“Do you realize how messed up that sounds?” Dean groaned, running a hand over his face. “Why the hell would you fuck kid-me? He gets launched into the future and your first way to address it is to jump him?”

“What?” Sam stood self-consciously, not sure whether to defend himself or grovel or admit to how stupid he felt. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was a time travel thing, okay? I thought it was some witchy bullshit that turned the clock back and you just… forgot who you are. I thought it would bring back your memory.”

“By splitting me open on your monster dick?” Dean shouted, shoving his brother back down on the bed.

“I thought you were turned back, not… you were gone and then you were in the bar, but you didn’t recognize me and I thought… I didn’t think you… what are we dealing with, man? Shifter? Witch? Cursed object?”

“No.” Dean said simply, fists tightening at his sides like punching Sam seemed like a better idea by the minute.

“Then what?”

“You get that this was my first time, right? He was the only guy I ever fucked besides you.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, voice low and calm. “Or, you were the only guy I ever fucked besides you. And that’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever said. I’ve said and seen some pretty messed up things, but that takes the cake.”

Sam reached for his brother before noticing the tight line of Dean’s shoulders and retracting his hands, suddenly thinking better of it. Softly, he prodded, “Dean. What are you talking about?”

“I remember this, dumbass.”

“You… All of it?”

“Yeah, all of it.” Dean sighed, staring at the bathroom door like he could see right through it. “The minute he walked out of the bathroom, I- well, Now!Me started talking and the more I said, the more I realized I heard me say it all before. I didn’t know it was us at the time, but... this was then. I knew, man. The second I saw that kid walk out, I was right in his head.”

“Wow,” Sam said cleverly, wiping his hands on his knees.

Dean huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You know why I did this, right? Back then?” Sam raised a brow, but stayed silent. “I wanted you. I wanted you in way that I… I was so freaked that I was going to eat you alive. Back-then you, Sammy. Not Now!You – though I wanted it. Fucking loved it. God, Sam, I still remember.” Dean crowded his brother, taking the hand Sam was running mindlessly over his leg, gently running rough fingertips along the sensitive inside of Sam’s arm. “So fucking good, I thought I’d die. With a dude your size, thought it wouldn’t be enough, like you were afraid I’d break, or you’d actually fucking break me. But there was this,” Dean kissed Sam’s pulse, faint and sweet. “Worked me open so careful but those big ass fingers were making me crazy, fucking my ass ‘til I was loose and waiting for you. Filled me up, gave it to me so deep and good. Did all those crazy, dirty fucking things that blew my goddamn mind and I didn’t even realize you were holding back half the freaky stuff. Crying and screaming like a bitch, like I’d lost my fucking mind. Used to think about it all the time, until you and I started figuring out some of the good stuff and we caught up together.”

In between his words, Dean’s lips and fingers were lighting Sam on fire, too good and too chaste all at once, pulling on every cord to leave his brother hard and wanting without taking off his clothes or giving into the mouth he knew Sam was aching for.

Dean was right - Sam knew Dean’s body: every button to push, every chord to strike, every touch and twist and lick that made his brother – lethal hunter and bona-fide badass – gasp and whine and beg and cry. He knew what Dean liked and loved and hated, his tastes and his taste – and Dean knew Sam too, down to blood and bone. Dean knew how to play Sam’s body like an instrument – exactly how Sam wants him, how to give his baby boy what he needs.

“I think I get it. What you thought was going on. You’re an idiot, but I get it.” Dean met Sam’s big brown puppy dog eyes, feeling guilty for being a dick at first. If he was honest, he wasn’t sorry Sam showed him what he wanted so badly all those years ago, even if right now, he felt off about it. Right now, he didn’t want to share him – even with himself – and he didn’t give a fuck if it didn’t make sense.

Dean leaned down to meet his brother eye to eye where he sat on the edge of the bed, grinding his palm against the aching pressure in Sam’s jeans. “Alright, baby boy, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re gonna bring him – me – back to where you picked him up. This is a good memory, so don’t play some crappy radio station. When you get to the bar, sit at the bar and buy him another drink. You’re going to get the urge to say some girly shit. Go ahead and say it, ‘cause that’s what I was thinking about the first time I touched you like this.” Sam’s hips were unconsciously rocking against Dean’s hand, face buried in Dean’s chest.

“Yeah?” Sam whispered simply, breath heaving as he tried to calm himself down, knowing his brother wasn’t going to let him come until he got back.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, moving his hand away from Sam’s aching dick, soothingly running his hands over his little brother’s thighs. “Hey? You’re good, baby boy. Listen carefully. When you get there, you’re going to point out a door. Big, heavy, ornate thing in the back, okay? Mention the townies think it’s cursed. Say there’s a legend, you have to paint the handle in lamb’s blood blessed like holy water and walk backwards through the threshold in the direction you came so you don’t end up lost. I’m a blunt fucker, so I take the hint and that’s how I get back. I find you – young you – at the library and we find this Haitian thing and we torch it. Then you – now!you – are going to pick up booze and food. Fast. And then you’re going to march your ass back here.”

Sam nodded, mouth twisted in thought. “That’s the door that kept swinging, spitting out the black crap?”

Dean grimaced at the memory. “Yeah.”

“You never said anything.”

Dean smirked. “Right, of course. ‘Hey, Sammy, one of the benefits of being older than you is that while your lame ass was in school, I went to the future and got fucked within an inch of my life for the first time and wondered how it’d be different with you the whole way back.’”

“Right,” Sam mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Then I come back here?”

Dean moved, lips hovering over his ear, “Dude. Food. Booze. Lube - ‘cause don’t think I don’t know our best stuff is used up and on the floor by the duffle. A man notices these things. Then you drag your ass back here. And then you’re taking a shower-”

Sam quirked a brow. “I already took a shower.”

“First of all, I don’t know where he’s been. Or I do. That’s the point. You’re taking another one. Maybe two. And I will definitely be there,” Dean corrected, before finishing, “Then I’m indulging. Then you’re being punished. And then I’m indulging again.”

“What, I’m being punished now?”

“Hell yes!” Dean laughed darkly against Sam’s lips, leaning in for a kiss. “You popped my cherry, you stupid, disturbed asshole.”

“Right.” Sam said, trying to tell himself he wasn’t at all aroused by that as the younger Dean came out, full dressed. Both Deans nodded towards each other respectfully, as if it wasn’t awkward as hell. As if Sam hadn’t just fucked one and was waiting to jump the other.

Young Dean turned to Sam, his bag over one shoulder. “Hey man, I’m heading out.”

“I’ll give you a ride back to the bar so you can meet up with… whoever you were waiting for.”

“Cool. Who’s got the ’67 Impala? My dad’s got a beauty just like it.” Young Dean asked, nodding towards the parking lot through the windows. Sam wouldn’t have kept this from Dean once he realized what had happened anyway, but he was seriously kicking himself for not thinking to close the fucking blinds. It was Dean’s fault, really – the night before his brother had Sam pinned against the same glass, taking out some weird exhibitionist kick on Sam and his full frontal.

Sam smiled tightly and shrugged. If Dean said he didn’t make any connections about who they were at the time, it was best not to poke at it. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Older Dean called after Sam on his way out. “Oh, and I’ll add another few nights to our checkout while you’re gone. The shower’s big. The beds don’t suck. Might spend some time here.”

Sam swallowed thickly. Dean was actually going to be the death of him.

∞

“So, you said you were stranded in town?” Sam asked, opting for nonchalance as he eyed the carved door at the back – young Dean’s ticket home.

“Looks that way,” Dean sighed, scratching his head.

“That bites, man. You know what they say - maybe you just got cursed by the door from hell.”

Dean’s perked up, side-glancing the man who was acting so casual after just given him the night of his life. The idea that this guy could now help with the case of being marooned in the future made his head hurt. Maybe he just wanted the excuse to enjoy the company a while longer.

“Door from hell?”

“That there, in the bar. The, uh, crazier townies think it’s a cursed portal or something. The idea is, you walk through it and you end up lost for life.”

“What’s that even mean?”

Sam offered a sturgeon shrug, laying it on thick, hoping Dean wouldn’t miss a single detail. “No idea. But get this: they say you have to bless lamb’s blood like it’s holy water and paint the door handle, then walk through backwards the way you came through.”

Dean took another sip of his drink, trying to feign polite disinterest. “Hear anything else about it?”

Sam thought back to the day Dean grabbed him from the library and dragged him through the back of the bar with armfuls of books on voodoo and cursed objects lore. “I don’t know, dude. Something to do with Haitian time turners.”

Dean’s hands grabbed at his waist, fingers brushing over the outline of a knife, distrustful. “You a hunter?”

Sam feigned horror, wondering if Dean was attributing how much they were both obviously bullshitting to the awkward after-sex conversation. “Me? I’m a big guy, but I could never hurt an animal.”

Dean smirked, relaxing. “Oh, you’re big alright.”

Sam rolled his eyes. His brother’s cheesy ass one-liners are one thing that sure as hell haven’t changed. “My brother’s going to be expecting me back soon.”

“Right. You seem close. Bit intense.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, about that. Look… a lot of people… they don’t really understand that. They’re not like us. We live a strange life, but it suits us, you know? It’s always been me and him against the world. I think it always will be.”

“Sounds lonely.” Dean said into the glass he was sipping from.

“No. It’s liberating. I know exactly where I belong, even if I didn’t always believe I belonged there. It’s good. Wherever my brother is – that’s home. And home’s not something everyone has, you know? Most people have people they know and a place they crash. They don’t really have an idea of what’s worth protecting. They don’t have anything worth dying for. Us, we’ve got our life and sometimes it sucks and it’s complicated but it’s ours. And I think, once you find something good, just roll with it. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. We watch each other’s backs, that’s enough for me, you know?” Sam realized he was reaching a bit, but once he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop. It would be a long time before Dean let him talk, really talk about their little world together. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to just pour his heart out, and he needed to let him know somehow that when they realized how they were supposed to fit together, it was going to be a good thing.

Dean laughed, a bit self-loathingly. “That why he nearly clocked you when he realized I was there?”

“No. He just… thought you were someone else. He sobered up pretty quickly.”

“Is it because I’m a dude? Does he know…”

“What, that I’m down to get with a guy?” Sam clarified, kind of surprised. “He rolls both ways, too.”

“Wow,” Dean nodded. Sam wished he could tell him that he didn’t have to censor his thoughts – not to him. But the Dean that he had that with was waiting for him – and this Dean still had a long ways to go.

“All I’m saying is he’s cool. He doesn’t mind me enjoying life. In fact, I think there were times where he wished I would be a little looser. Anyway. Good luck with everything. This bar isn’t the greatest place to get shipwrecked.”

Dean smirked, casting him a shaded look. “I think I made out just fine.”


	2. Resilience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean warned Sam that he was going to indulge, and he always makes good on his promises to his little brother.

Fuck Dean. 

No, seriously. Fuck him. 

He had Sam standing up, with four of Dean’s fingers pounding his ass, relentless against his prostate. Sam had nothing more for leverage than the back of a chair that was just a hair too far away to really brace himself against. Worse, though, he was fucking back against his brother’s hand, grinding helplessly against the air - not an ounce of friction to relieve his throbbing dick, trapped by a cock ring that Sam hadn’t even realized his brother had hidden in his duffle.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned, reaching back to dig his fingers into his brother’s shoulder, gripping Dean where he knelt behind him. “Fuck, Dean, please. Please.” 

Dean somehow had enough clarity to smirk, and Sam realized his brother was into it – beyond into it, if the little circles his hips were making was anything to go by, not to mention the open-mouthed, slack-jaw expression he maintained while he watched his hands thrust into his little brother’s hole – but not nearly as fucked out as Sam. Hell, Sam was being fingerfucked into tears, one cock ring away from coming until he passed out, and Dean was still fully dressed. 

“Please what, Sammy?” Dean said, voice coherent, but growly enough – as if he were already on the edge without a single touch – to make Sam shudder. 

“W-wanna come. Have to,” Sam whimpered, his entire body lighting up each time Dean ground his fingers up into Sam’s sweet spot. 

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Dean replied instantly, simple and unceasingly. 

“Then fuck me. God, Dean, please.” Sam was shaking, hands gripping the back of the chair so tight they began to hurt, knuckles white. 

Dean grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to the cheek of his brother’s ass as the thrust of his hand slowed, as if it weren’t the dirtiest fucking thing Sam had ever seen. Dean stood up in an instant, wrapping an arm around his little brother’s waist, dragging the taller man backwards. He propped Sam against the cold wall, eyebrows raised when his little brother’s hips instantly thrust forward, grinding against the unyielding surface like he was out of control. 

Dean ran a consoling hand over Sam’s back, only stopping to slap his bare ass, before removing his own clothes as if he had nothing but time. He transferred lube from his fingers to his cock, slicking himself up and dragging Sam close by the hipbones. He didn’t have to pull hard – Sam was already arching back, pretty ass up and waiting. 

Sam had no idea what sounds were coming out of his mouth, too focused on his big brother’s fingers as they slid back into his ass, so easily but so full, stretching a little further, just in case. Dean had a rule: no matter how rough, no matter how pissed, his dick wasn’t going anywhere near his little brother’s ass if he wasn’t loose and open. Dean wasn’t going to fuck Sam if it was going to hurt him – but Sam suspected part it of had to do with how much Dean enjoyed opening him up too. 

“Shh, baby,” Dean whispered between the little bites he was peppering over Sam’s neck, down his shoulder, along his spine. When his teeth dragged into gentle kisses, Sam knew Dean was getting distracted playing with Sam’s ass and stroking his own cock. Frustrated and beyond words, Sam arched his back, shoving his ass against his brother’s dick and clenching down on the fingers that were so deep inside him, and still not enough. 

Dean growled, rubbing his head against Sam’s entrance once, twice, before working his way in. He reached around, squeezing Sam’s throbbing dick to relieve some of the pressure as he rolled his hips forward, sinking in inch by inch. By the time he was buried to the hilt, Sam was flat against the wall and shaking with shuddery, breathy moans. 

“God, so fucking tight. Even after taking it, taking half my fucking hand,” Dean panted, the fondness in his voice leaking out with a whisper, “All in, sweetheart. You ready?”

“I- I need a…” Sam whimpered, voice fading as his nails scratched against the wall.

“It’s alright, Sammy. Tell me when. You’re fine. Fuck. Feel so good, just like this.” Dean was babbling, but he was sincere – shaking and wanting, but so fucking patient.   
It wasn’t complicated. Dean was still jealous, and he was still being mean – but only mean in the ways that made Sam feel good. So fucking good he thought he’d explode. Dean loved his asshole little brother. He just loved making him scream a little bit more. 

Dean kissed his little brother’s neck, hands rubbing over his brother’s sides – an act Sam knew so well. It was partly to comfort Sam for taking it so good, partly to steady himself as he waited for Sam’s okay to start moving, and partly because he wanted to consume his little brother and exploring his tan skin with greedy hands was as close as he could get.   
Sam took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to find the air to breathe as he slapped his hand against the wall twice, giving Dean the okay. 

A low noise rumbled in his brother’s throat as he circled his hips gently, waiting for his brother to protest. When Sam only moaned, resting his cheek against the wall, Dean pulled out just to the tip. He rode back in slowly, burying himself, gentle and unhurried – once, twice – before rolling his hips and working up towards a slightly quicker, but no less thorough, thrust. 

At first Sam thought Dean was just taking his time, fucking him leisurely as part of his punishment. But then realized that Dean was practically holding him up, and he was breathing so hard he couldn’t speak. He let himself full-out pant for just a second, sucking in enough air to fill his diaphragm and straighten up, pushing back against his brother’s thrusts and clenching hard around him. 

Dean groaned, shoving forward, fast and bruising, as if he had lost control - just for a moment. Sam pushed back into it, adjusting his footing so he had the leverage to give it as good as he could get it. 

Whether or not he was being defiant just to be a dick, Sam had no idea, but Dean stopped fucking forward completely. He halted, circling his hips in a perfect figure eight, grinding forward until - 

“Fuck,” Sam cried out, palms slapping flat against the wall. His vision clouded, a jolt sent right to his pulsing cock – strained and begging to be touched. As Dean started fucking, really fucking, he laughed against Sammy’s neck. Quickly, panting took over, following the sharp snap of his hips. When his dick brushed up hard against Sammy’s prostate, Sam released a breathy little strain of “Dean, Dean, Dean” each time his big brother nailed it. 

Sam almost throttled Dean as he slowed again, tapping his legs three times in warning before he pulled out completely. Dean manhandled his brother onto the bed, shoving Sam on his back and pushing his knees to his chest, waiting for Sam to be a good boy and hold his legs. Sam’s hands slipped between them, gripping the meat of his thighs and holding himself open as Dean entered him again, the perfect angle to make him cry out, more intense and direct than before.

“Baby, please,” Sam begged, wanting so badly to grab at his brother, but unwilling to stop holding himself open for Dean. Knowingly, Dean guided Sam’s legs around his waist, freeing Sam’s hands to reach and caress and grope as he pleased. With full access to his baby brother’s torso, Dean leaned forward, grinding his abdomen against Sam’s bobbing dick. 

“Give you a choice, Sammy,” Dean breathed, leaning as close to his little brother’s lips as possible without inhibiting the quick thrusting oh his hips. “I’ll take that ring off your pretty cock… shit… and you can come right. now. Fuck! Jesus-… But it stays off. And by the end of the night – hm, don’t- Not yet. Clenching like that- oh God Sammy… By the end of the night, you’re screaming and coming dry. O-over and over… fuck. Or I leave it on, you take it like a good boy. Ride it out.”

Sam whined, honest-to-fucking god whined, and just nodded, as if that were an answer, letting Dean make the choice. It was so good he couldn’t fucking think, nonetheless negotiate. Dean grinned, removing the ring as he took Sam’s throbbing in hand. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” Dean breathed, watching in awe as Sam painted stripes of cum up across his torso. Dean’s thrusts turned brutal, jaw going slack as he pounded into Sam, just using him as he cried and whimpered, overstimulated. Dean had barely finished pumping his own load into Sam before pulling out and crawling between Sam’s legs, tiredly eating his brother out as Sam fed his load back to him. He ignored – no, relished – Sam’s overwhelmed whimpers, pleased to see his brother was already half-hard and wanting by the time he was finished. 

Breathless, Sam asked, “What happened to ‘ride it out?”

Dean smirked, already moving to clean Sam’s stomach, chest with his tongue. Mouth suckling on a sensitive nipple, Dean murmured, “You asked so pretty. Didn’t wanna wait. Love your come too much.” 

Sam groaned, letting Dean swallow his little noises as he tasted himself in his brother’s mouth. 

“Gonna ride your face Sammy. You’re gonna open me up on your tongue until I need your big cock. You’re gonna sit back and take it so good, hmm? It’s gonna be a long fucking night, and you and me? We’re just getting started.”

Cock fully hard, Sam’s hand made its way to the meat of Dean’s ass, squeezing lightly. Trailing his fingertips low, he grinned in pleased surprise at his big brother’s unexpected shiver. 

“Need me to eat you, baby? Wanna sit on my face?”

Dean growled, nipping behind Sam’s ear in response. 

“Come on, Dean. Show me your pretty hole.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night's still young, Sammy.

If Dean had a thought to spare, it might have struck him how the tables have turned. Unfortunately, his mind was focused elsewhere – on his own needy gasping as he fucked down on Sam’s experienced mouth, maybe even the quiver of his thighs, the urge to grab his own cock and fuck a tight fist. But with the incessant teasing, lapping, flicking, penetrating of his brother’s tongue - even the pleasurable suckling, the pillowed press of closed lips, the careful graze of teeth – against his sensitive hole, he barely remembered to let Sammy breathe, nonetheless fret that Sam was supposed to be the one whimpering helplessly.

Sam had clearly learned his lesson though, because he was letting Dean call the shots. He was eating his brother out enthusiastically, long past what could be even remotely comfortable, even as he was fucked out and exhausted. Sam ignored his sore jaw, screaming lungs, and now throbbing cock. He didn’t burden his brother’s pleasure with how desperately he wanted to be wrapped in the tight heat of the spit-slick hole he was now nursing. He and Dean both knew he could get his rocks off just like this, untouched and worked up from getting his brother off just from a mouth on his ass. 

Dean threw his head back with pleasure, grip tight on the headboard as he fully rocked down onto Sam’s tongue. “God yes, baby boy. Just like that.”

Dean shivered, grinding down, trying to ride it out as long as possible before actually risking ending it too quickly. “You ready for me?” 

Sam released a throaty groan, vibrating against Dean’s hole in a way that made his brother keen. Sam’s hips jerked reflexively, untouched cock desperate for friction. He’d have already palmed himself over the edge if both hands weren’t occupied with gripping Dean’s ass. 

When Sam didn’t answer in words, Dean stopped rocking, pulling away. “Sam-”

“Yeah, Dean, please. Want you so bad.” 

Dean braced one hand on the headboard as he reached beneath himself, incessantly pressing newly lubed fingers at his spit-slicked hole with a gasp. Sam’s hands mindlessly began stroking his brother’s thighs. 

He watched, hard enough to pound nails, as his brother work himself up to two fingers. Dean’s head was fully thrown back, panting for air as he impulsively switched between a quick prep and full-blown, indulgent fingerfucking. Soon the temptation was too great, and Sam arched up, licking around where his brother’s fingers were scissoring and searching. 

Dean released a surprised little moan, pausing to let Sam explore with his mouth before slowly going back to work. 

Sam felt his brother stop stretching and start fucking himself, worked up to allow enough room for a third finger, but lingering to enjoy a particularly good stroke. 

Sticking two fingers into his own mouth alongside his seeking tongue, he galvanized enough spit to add a finger to Dean’s, pleased at the ease of its entrance and how quickly he could add another. 

Around his head, Dean’s thighs began to tremble, the exertion and pleasure quickly becoming overwhelming as Sam focused less on fingerfucking that sweet hole, and more on his mouth at Dean’s sensitive rim. 

Dean shouted and froze as Sam began thrusting his tongue alongside their fingers, the heat and intimacy too much to bear. Sam kept working him through it, unsure if Dean was ending it now – maybe chasing orgasm in the novelty of the moment or because he couldn’t hold out any longer. Instead, his brother suddenly pulled away, out of reach of his mouth but not quite losing his hand. Sam followed as Dean gently pulled their fingers from his hole, their hands loosely intertwined as he took the lead, guided his big brother down to his own hard cock.

Dean had barely caught him in a bite of a kiss before Sam was gasping. He expected Dean to draw it out, make it count, and get him begging. Instead, Dean wasted no time in spearing himself on his brother’s dick, pushing the head past his tight rim and sinking down against the force of tight muscle until his aching hole was stuffed.

“God, Sammy, yes. Fuck- Fuck yes.”

Sam threw his head back, exposing a line of sweat on his taught neck. “Shit! Shit. ’m already so close, Dean.”

“I-I know, baby. Just- hold out for me, ‘kay?” Dean planted his shaking hands on Sam’s chest, grinding his hips in slow circles, like he was getting off on the stretch. He rocked forward, sliding against Sam’s lubed-slick hips as he cried out. The channel they had so carefully coaxed open was now squeezing tight around Sam’s cock. He could hardly breathe. 

Sam bit into his lip, half-bashful as he fought off another embarrassingly quick orgasm and half-smiling at the obscene pleasure he could still bring his brother with nothing more than his hands, mouth, and cock. The expression was wiped from his face as Dean nearly pulled off completely and sunk back down. A deep, slack-jawed moan rumbled from Sam’s chest. The mere sound left his big brother gasping. 

Still, Dean refused to pick up the pace as he slowly fucked himself on Sammy’s cock. Any time Sam tried to move - thrusting up, or even grabbing at his brother’s hips - Dean just bore down harder. Occasionally, he’d shoot Sam a glare that never failed to command complete obedience. The unspoken threat wasn’t supposed to be sexy, but it admittedly went straight to Sam’s dick with a pulse of desire. Dean’s unwavering control over him was both intensely frustrating and insanely sexy. He wanted to grab at his brother, touch and taste and fuck him blind…. but he also loved the thrill of giving himself over completely.

Dean loved it slow and deep and in intensely intimate control just as much as he loved it when Sam gave it to him rough and fast and overwhelming… but the sudden thought of Sam fucking Dean like he was using him - if it weren’t for the all-consuming kisses and searching hands - left Dean reeling. His shaking thighs quickly led to a broken rhythm. 

Dean leaned forward, sliding sweaty locks from his little brother’s forehead as they shared a biting kiss. Sam rolled his hips up, awestruck as his big brother’s back arched. “Right there?”

“Yeah, Sammy, fuck. Please, just- just-” 

Sam gave an experimental thrust. When he was rewarded with a throaty moan, instead of chastising, he followed it with a quick rhythm, pounding Dean’s round ass, fast and hard. Dean panted, thumbs biting into Sam’s collarbone as he held on for dear life. Their eyes met as the pressure built, their breath syncing with each other’s movements.  
Sam would grab Dean’s dick. He really would. His fetish-level obsession with his brother’s pleasure certainly didn’t make him an inconsiderate lover. Not to mention, he’s a fucking gentleman. But the thought of Dean trying to hold himself up so his little brother could fuck him good and deep, all while jerking himself off: both hands working and rolling until he creamed himself all over Sam’s chest… well, it nearly had him coming a second too soon.

Sam grabbed both of Dean’s hands from where they splayed out his thighs, never slowing as he nailed that prostate with the deepest dicking he could manage. Dean was lost in whimpers and trembling. He clearly didn’t take the hint, too busy struggling to maintain Sam’s unbroken eye contact as he resisted the urge to throw his head back with a hedonistic groan. 

“Come on, Dean, touch yourself. Wanna watch you come,” Sam grunted, punctuating every other word with a pointed thrust. 

“Oh- oh fuck. Fuck, Sammy, fuck!” Dean had barely thumbed the head and gotten his nail to his slit before he busted, clenching around Sam’s cock until his little brother came, hard and dearly dry. 

Sam sobbed with pleasure as the overstimulation of the many orgasms that night hit him in waves. Dean forced himself to ride it out, grinding down on the pulsing dick inside him until Sam was begging to slip free.

Finally, Dean stilled and caught his breath. With a chuckle at his brother’s strained expression of pain and bliss, he raked his fingers down Sam’s chest, catching a sensitive nipple just to watch him squirm.

“Shit! Fuck, Dean, please.” 

Quirking a brow, Dean replied, “What, you don’t love it?” 

Sam groaned, wriggling. If he hadn’t just lost all his brains, and entire goddamn Stanford education, through his fucking dick, maybe he would’ve grabbed Dean’s hips and gently thrown him off. Maybe he would’ve remembered all the height and muscle he had on his brother. But he was putty in Dean’s hands – lost and fucked out and obedient. 

“God, I do. You know I do. Want it all, but I- I can’t.”

Dean just laughed, pleased with himself and amused, as if he weren’t expecting anything less. He gently pulled himself off, hushing his own whine as Sam’s cock slipped free, all the while muttering, “Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Sam shivered, sweaty body suddenly chilled as he lost Dean’s body heat. Before his brother could make a run for the shower, Sam reached out and pulled him close, locking him in an affectionate kiss that melted the disgruntled crankiness Dean always fell into when he felt sticky and uncomfortable. Without words, Sam tried to cram in another apology from earlier and the intensity of his affection into their shared breaths, while both hands finding their place back on Dean’s hipbones. 

It didn’t take Dean long to finally give in, murmuring and sighing happily, but he was also the first to break it with a self-chastising groan. “Saaam. I said no chick flick moments.”  
Smirking, Sam ran one hand through his own hair, letting the other fall to his brother’s side and brush along the bare skin. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to.” He complained. By the time he crawled out of bed and grabbed at Sam’s hand, he was done posturing. A bashful smile playing on his face, he nodded towards the bathroom, a silent request for his brother to join him in the shower. Sam was already up and following him before the excited-dread of Dean’s mischief set in again. 

Dean had already started working on getting the water hot, and almost missed it when Sam stopped dead in his tracks. “Dean-”

He grinned. Or perhaps he was admiring Sam’s flushed body, fully exposed in the bathroom light. They had fucked in the flickering TV light, trying to cover a fraction of the noise they always made together with loud crashing of an action flick. Now, a full vanity illuminated the way he was propped against the door frame, favorable to his incredible physique. Either way, Sam couldn’t barely tell when Dean was pleased to being fucking with him , or pleased to fuck him. It often went hand in hand.  
Dean ducked behind the curtain to check the temperature. When, sure enough, he surfaced to see Sam’s giving him the ultimate bitch face, he chucked again, adding, “Night’s still young, Sammy.”

“Yeah, and you already nearly broke me.”

“Nearly,” Dean reminded, “Ain’t done yet.” 

Sam sighed, letting Dean push him into the shower and beneath the stream of water. Dean always treated the tub like a threshold, as if what were to happen behind the curtain couldn’t begin in front of it. His body ached from how thoroughly Dean had wrung him, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to hesitate, rushing into Dean’s wandering hands like a true masochist. 

Sam observed appreciatively as Dean distributed foam across his bitten skin. He always lathered like he knew he was being watched, and God knows, he always was. Even as cleaned the evidence of their afternoon off himself, it was sexy as hell. Sam was lost as Dean made obscene noises, clearly enjoying the way warm water cascaded down a stiff back.

Finally, Sam pushed himself further into Dean’s space, lathering his hands and taking over. His fingers worked at knots in his shoulders, massaging as Dean leaned into him. He released a low hum of pleasure as Sam pressed his lips against the shell of his ear. He began to speak, murmuring nonsense and sustaining a low conversation. Even with all of his big brother’s strength and bravado, Sam knew Dean found that intimacy – their proximity, sealed with the sound of his voice – intensely comforting. 

“Always wanna get so clean right before you get messy,” Sam teased fondly, nibbling along his brother’s neck. Dean turned to face him in the circle of his arms, wrapping his hands around Sam’s to transfer the foam between their palms. 

“Nice thing about coming right here, Sammy… It’ll just wash away.” Dean started as though he were about to roll his eyes, but both eyes were focused elsewhere, his distraction leaving his tone quiet and fond, if not a little predatory. His soapy hands were already working against Sam’s skin, gaze moving slowly, staring and enjoying until it became unnerving, as always. 

Sam paused, a little doubtful and a little exhilarated. “Coming again, you mean.”

“Mmm.” Dean confirmed. The moment he finished lathering the rivets of Sam’s abdomen, he was lightly tugging at Sam’s soft dick with slippery hands. 

Sam bit into his lip, hips jerking involuntarily at the oversensitized slide. His spent cock was taking interest. Dean almost seemed… impressed. Certainly pleased. 

“Dean,” Sam gasped, shifting as though he were unsure whether to move further into his brother’s space, or escape to the corner of the shower. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” 

Through gritted teeth, he quipped, “You break it, you buy it.”

Dean laughed, taking Sam’s balls into his palm. “Thought it was already mine.”

“Fuck!”

Before Sam knew it, he was plastered against the wall, Dean’s fingers probing his abused hole. “That a yes, Sammy?”

“’Course it is, jerk.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fin.

“S’good, Sammy? Doesn’t hurt too much?”

Gasping, Sam just nodded, mouth going slack as Dean worked a final, slicked finger further into him. Dean had crowded him against the corner of the shower after scrubbing him clean, head to toes. Like a fucking boy scout, he remembered to drag the lube into the shower, tossed in the corner with sample-sized shampoo bottles. Sam had barely blinked, and went from a deep tissue massage for his aching back (he thought to himself, almost humorlessly, that it’s not just your cock and holes that get fucked when one goes at it like this) to Dean’s half-hard cock against the back of his thigh, two fingers fucking deep into his ass.

Huffing in shock, Sam slapped his hands against the wall. Dean watched him for a moment, watching protectively. When it was clear Sam was bracing himself, rather than signaling for a pause, Dean grinned and continued, adding a third finger, almost brutal as he pounded his hand into his brother’s ass. “Christ, Dean!” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dean laughed, manhandling Sam to the side and dropping to his knees.

“Dean-” Sam whined, unsure whether to beg for more or cry for him to stop as he swallowed his overstimulated dick, twisting the three fingers stuffed in his hole to massage against his prostate. Sam grabbed at the wall, desperate for purchase. Dean didn’t bother teasing long, the fool probably exhausted himself, and stroked him fast, sucking the head of his cock hard as he drove his fingers into Sam, over and over.

Sam barely got a hand in his brother’s short hair before coming, hard.

“Nearly dry, man,” Dean said conversationally, resting his cheek on his brother’s thigh. His green eyes looked up through thick lashes, cocksucking lips swollen, watching Sam’s face as he continued to play with his hole. 

“Please Dean,” Sam cried. He was thankful he didn’t have the energy to move his leg, because he nearly stomped his foot like a girl. 

Finally, Dean pulled his fingers free, rinsing them under the stream of the shower before standing smoothly and pulling his trembling, fucked out brother into his arms. Sam sagged against him, trying to catch Dean’s lips and hide in his marked shoulder all at once. Dean bit his lips, trying to hide his bemused smile. Finally, when Sam had enough energy to do more than pet and caress, he took notice of Dean’s dick, neglected – though it had certainly had its own adventures tonight – and waiting for attention. 

When he was sure Sam wasn’t going to crack his head on the tile, Dean gave into Sam tugging at his arm, letting his brother lower himself to the floor of the tub. When Sam got there, he couldn’t remember what he was even planning to do on his knees.

Dean laughed, a little strained, mostly awed. “Poor thing. Too tired to even suck me. It’s almost cute.”

“Not too tired,” Sam mumbled, dragging his brother forward by the hips. 

Dean just shook his head, laughing quietly, hooking his hands beneath Sam’s arms and pulling him to his feet. “S’alright. Got one more surprise for you, Sammy.”

Sam nearly whined, swallowing the desperation that curled up, low in his throat. “Fuck, I’m exhausted, man.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, almost affectionate, a little malicious.

Sam swallowed nervously, leaning back to letting water catch his dry mouth. 

As he wet his lips, he reminded, a little cautiously. “My ass needs a break, Dean.”  
“I gave you a break. Let you fuck me for half an hour.” Dean gave him a shit eating grin and ducked out of the shower, shuffling around in the cupboard under the sink. 

Sam barely spared a thought to be afraid. Whatever Dean was stashing down there, Sam prayed he didn’t forget it at checkout, because he had a feeling it’d be a really fucking embarrassing discovery to leave behind for the cleaning crew. Absently, Sam muttered: “My dick needs a break, too.”

Dean grew quiet, and Sam knew he was thinking about why he was doing this in the first place. “You were an idiot.”

“I know.” 

“Mmm… Alright. I’ll let you watch tomorrow. Won’t have to do any work at all. Even leave your cock alone if you want.”

Sam’s pained cock moved a little, like a fucking masochist, simultaneously at the pleasure of watching Dean do beautiful things to himself, but also at the respite itself from punishing overstimulation. If Sam didn’t hunt monsters, and know he was probably permanently demented for temporarily checking the fucking devil into his brain, he’d be convinced he was certifiable on the basis of his cock alone. There was something wrong with him. Or, at the very least, his kinky, evil, forever interested masochist dick. 

“And my ass?” Sam actually sounded hopeful.

“And that pretty little ass.” He could hear the smile in Dean’s voice as he backed into the shower, pausing to warm back up directly under the showerhead. 

“Deal,” Sam said. And it sounded fine. Really. Until he turned around, and saw a lubed vibrator the size of his brother’s beast of a dick – seriously, he’d never met anyone else who could even compete with him, and Dean… Dean wasn’t slacking between the legs. Dean nearly took the fucking prize, except Sam knew (if only because Dean practically sang songs about it) that he himself was hung like a fucking horse – ready to fucking split him in half. Sam’s hands went up, like he could surrender, or melt into the tile that was practically holding him up already, or something. “Fuck no. No deal. What the fuck?”

“Common, Sammy! Waterproof!”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Jesus fucking Christ? Wow, wonder how he managed that. You into shifter porn these days, Sammy? I wouldn’t mind watching you fuck yourself. Except the only one allowed to fuck you is me, baby boy. Hell, I didn’t even like that…”

“Where’d you even get that?” Sam mumbled, hesitant. He was so overstimulated he hurt even without Dean’s touch, but what can he say? Poor guy is a sucker for vibrators, bless his heart. Even on a good day, Sam was a toppy little thing, but Dean knew better than anyone, if you buzz Sammy’s prostate, he’ll cream himself to tears, even without a night of too-many-orgasms behind him.

“Mmm, picked it up while you were fucking that twink like a brat.” Dean snickered, enjoying the hitches in his brother’s breath as he played with his sensitive hole. 

“I was fucking you, Dean.” Sam replied, almost petulant, except he went voiceless, shaking as Dean tucked the toy against his hole. 

“You were saying?” Dean gave a low laugh, wiggling the head of the toy past the tense ring of muscle until he felt it give. Sam shook, leaning heavily into his brother’s side as the fake cock was worked into him, inch by inch. It was a testament to how far gone Sam really was that he worked himself back on it, limp and letting Dean support the rest of his body even as he rolled his hips, letting Dean fuck him slow. 

“God- fuck, Dean. Y-you were hiding this?” Sam whimpered, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder. “Was that in here the whole time?”

“Nah, Sammy, only just stuffed you with it.” Dean’s words were teasing, but his expression was of pure awe. His lips found his way to Sam’s ear. “Look so pretty, baby. So good with the bite. You ready for the growl?” 

"Please," Sam gasped, gripping his arm like the water of the shower pounding his back was threatening to drag him down the drain. "Oh please, Dean."

Dean smiled, innocent and sweet like he wasn’t doing the dirtiest fucking things with his hands. Without another word, he flicked on the toy with a twist, pleased with the low purr working its way down his wrist and up Sam’s spine. He continued to fuck him, slow and deep as Sam shuddered, putty in his hands. He loved deconstructing his brother like this, reducing his boy down to whimpers and begging. 

Sam groaned, leaning back to desperately suck air into his lungs, giving Dean’s mouth perfect access to his beautiful throat.  
"Want more, Dean, need it." 

"So soon?" Dean raised a brow, surprised but definitely not disappointed. He talking Sammy through it mostly because he had been torturing Sam with total silence and brutal fucking for most of the night. This was gentle – too much, a little mean – but gentle all the same. So he teased Sam, petting him and playing with him and fucking him deep with the droning toy as he raised it, setting by setting, until he could feel the hum in Sam’s lower back, pulsating in sync with his quivering thighs. 

When Sam's grip grew a little too tight on his arm, blunt nails biting into the skin, and his muscles ached from holding his brother up, Dean finally relented, reliving his wailing boy, twisting the toy until it was hammering directly into Sammy's prostate.

“Oh yeah. Fuck. YES.” Sam gasped out his pleasure, only lasting a few moments before his words became howls. Dean found himself surprised, again, no matter how many times he does this, at how he can drag his brother down to shuddery whimpers, then suddenly get so much enthusiasm. Satisfied, Dean fucked him harder, nailing his prostate again and again until Sam was nearly pulling apart, panting too hard to beg. 

“Oh God. God, Dean. Fuck. Fuck.” Dean followed Sam’s growly chanting, low and husky but pretty and sweet, fucking him until he couldn’t, until he drove the toy hard into Sammy’s little sweet spot and kept it there, intensifying the vibration to its highest setting and directing it right where Sam needed it. 

Sam screamed his name, voice drowned in the pounding of the shower as he came all over them both, somehow wet and long. 

“Look at that, Sammy,” Dean laughed. He turned it down setting by setting before slipping the toy free from the clutch of Sam’s clenching ass, replacing it with his fingers to feel the orgasm continue to shake through his brother. “Got you good, hmm? You’re all wet again. Did beautifully.” 

Sam gurgled, something that sounded like “fuck you” but felt like “thank you”. His kept face buried in Dean, only held up by Dean’s weight pressing him against the slick walls, shaking like a leaf before nearly passing out on his feet. 

“Let you sleep a little, baby. Then you’re gonna sit on my face until you can’t, or you come. That’s it. Promise.”

Sam nearly sobbed. “Dean, I can’t.”

“Might suck your sore cock a little tomorrow, too. But after that, I’ll leave you alone. Scout’s honor.” Dean shut off the shower, spinning around to hold his hand over his heart, like he was a respectable man and it fucking meant something. 

“Dean,” Sam warned, gasping. His brother, hands and cock and ass and all, were sincerely evil. He was a walking vice, all the wickedness you pray away in church. Sam’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to walk into a church again after tonight. It was well and true damnation.

“Only a little,” Dean repeated, winking. It sounded horrible. It sounded wonderful. Sam pushed the entire thought out of his brain. 

His entire body felt like pudding. It was a matter of necessity that he let his brother dry him off and drag him into bed, not bothering with clothes. 

He was tucked against his brother. Sam was always the little spoon whenever Dean was driving – and with Dean, half the time Dean’s not even doing the fucking, he’ll be whimpering and screaming and pleading and still think he’s driving. Guns and knives, under the bed and under the pillows and under the mattress, bottles of lube on both bedside tables, and enough sigils and salt lines to keep out just about anything… it was safe. Safe like Dean’s arms around his body, even as he was sore and satisfied, bitten and marked, sated and pleased. 

Half-asleep, neck cradled by bicep, lips pressed against Dean’s chest, Sam finally murmured, “At least you remembered batteries this time.”

He felt Dean’s laugh roar through his ribcage, joining the heartbeat against Sam’s ear. 

“Yeah, Sammy, don't want a repeat of Boise,” Dean shook his head, fingers scratching in Sam’s hair. “Brought toys home, so damn thoughtful. You were a bit ungrateful, Sammy.”

“Yeah, well, what's the fun in getting fucked with a hollow bullet?” Sam nuzzled, brushing his lips against a sensitive nipple to enjoy the shiver. Dean never did get off again. Even when he was making a point, he never did mindlessly take in that way. With all that was left between them unspoken – just like losses and mistakes and hunts gone bad – Sam was happy to communicate, just like this. Intimate and far away, just the way they needed it to be. Almost to tease tomorrow, which he was caught between anticipating breathlessly and dreading, he added, “Make a promise, you better deliver.”

Dean poked at him, like he did when they were kids, minus the pinching. “Shut the fuck up. You enjoyed yourself just fine. Ate you ‘til you cried.”

Sam looked a little wistful. “Mmm. True.”

The silence that followed must have hit Dean too heavy, because he added, “I forgive you, Sammy. ‘course.”

Sam laughed a little at that. He may have broken his brother’s heart for five seconds, but Dean broke his cock. And his ass. He felt like he should be the one offering forgiveness. Instead, Sam sighed, puppy eyes at the ready, and rolled over, pinning his brother beneath him in a way Dean enjoyed a little too much. His hot brother could wiggle and hard up all he liked, he wasn’t getting anywhere with it. Not tonight. He gave him a kiss though, and squeezed his crotch, because two could play at that game, and Dean was long overdue for a little sex torment. 

“I love you too, you hedonistic asshole,” Sam said, snickering at the red in his brother’s face, before rolling over and shutting out the light beside the bed. “Now go to sleep.”

Dean groaned, digging his hands into the bedsheets. “But-”

Sam shook his head. He gave in a little bit, of course, shifted until Dean’s crotch was flush against his ass, knowing he’d wake up to Dean rutting against him like a teenager later. But it was the principle of the thing. So he said, huffing a laugh, “You wrung me out man. Just gonna have to dream about me.”

Dean sighed, probably actively thinking about every de-boning thought he could muster. Nauseating, very unsexy things, because heaven forbid he blueball it a little while. Sam didn’t expect he’d have much success, because he’s pretty sure the entire evening was designed around building up Dean’s spankbank for eternity. 

Finally Dean groaned, shifting uncomfortably and burying his face in his hands, sputtering, “Oh fuck you.”

“I think you have, on every fucking surface of this whole goddamn hotel, in almost every way we know how.”

“Almost?” Dean shoved him for that, indignant, even as he curled right back to him afterward. “Dude, we’re not done yet.”

Sam grunted, already slipping into sleep. “You’re… shitty at keeping promises.”

“Only the kind you don’t want me to keep.”

Sam relented, finally rolling his hips back, grinding into Dean’s cock. With a sigh, almost teasing, as if he was so put out, he added, “Never change, you horny bastard.”

With a hand branded on Sam’s hip, grinding forward, Dean growled out a lazy, “Scout’s honor.”

And they laughed.


End file.
